


The Favor

by DrunkOnBeskar



Category: Star Wars, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adrenaline Junkie, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attachment Issues, Bisexual Female Character, Emotional Constipation, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flashbacks, Force Bond (Star Wars), Found Family, From Sex to Love, Grief/Mourning, Healing Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mandalorian Culture, Medical Trauma, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Promiscuity, Reckless Behavior, Slow Burn, The Force Ships It, Touch-Starved, Whump, Worldbuilding, fear of committment, fear of intimacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkOnBeskar/pseuds/DrunkOnBeskar
Summary: In the midst of evading the Imperial Remnant, the Mandalorian is hired by Cara Dune to track down her old war buddy. When he finds her, he wishes that he never accepted the job. She's bossy and aggravating but there's something else about her that makes him delay in delivering her to Cara. Not only that, it seems the Child and the Imperial Remnant are also very interested in her.….."You're always pushing my buttons," he said breathlessly. His gloved hand worked his way down her pants, slipping through her slick folds."I didn't think fucking that Twi'lek in the hangar was pushing your buttons. Didn't like how he made me scream?" She mocked while rocking her hips to his rough ministrations.He swore loudly, his hand fumbling out of her pants and into her mouth."Bite," he commanded.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. The Favor

…..

…..

…..

"Want some soup?" The Mandalorian inquired with his blaster pointed at his opponent's face.

The opponent was a fully muscled woman, a warrior. Some kind of veteran from the war, he could tell by the Alliance Starbird insignia under her left eye. At least it wasn't Imperial. He had enough of them back in Nevarro. This was someone he had to be wary of if the pain in his head and ribs wasn't proof of her physical prowess. She spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"You're a Mandalorian?" The big woman said. Her eyes wandered over the shiny beskar armor, sparking faint memories of the recent war.

They were sitting inside the cantina at the same table he was in before their skirmish. The former bounty hunter tensed at how she said it. More of a statement than a question like she already knew.

"What of it?"

The house proprietor bought two more bowls of soup to the table. The big woman took the bowl and sipped a bit of the broth, she redirected her eyes somewhere to her right.

"It's nothing. Your kind has become a rarity."

She couldn't see it but he narrowed his eyes, the way she said that too sounded like she was hiding something.

The green child sitting in between them made gurgles of appreciation as he sipped his own soup, cutting the tension that was in the air.

"I'm Cara Dune, ex-Rebel Alliance Shock Trooper," she introduced herself by indicating to the striped tattoo on her right bicep. "Saw most of my action mopping up after Endor. Mostly ex-Imperial Warlords . . ."

* * *

Cara sauntered out of the cantina after bidding goodbye to the Mandalorian after deeming him not a threat. She spent the day challenging Sorgan locals to petty fights or helping them out for spare change. She did it mostly to try and forget what happened during the war and to bask in her retirement.

In the evening she headed to the makeshift camp she had set up in the forest. She sat down against a tree, legs stretched, ankles crossed and pulled out a banged-up holovid viewer from her rucksack. Her other hand held her blaster protectively since she was out in the open with relatively no cover. Just an old habit she picked up in the war, expecting Imps to ambush her in her sleep.

She activated the holovid, the image was long distorted but the audio was still intact.

A woman's voice yelled over the continuous sound of blaster shots and people fighting in the background.

_"Cara! Cara! I just saved your sorry ass so you better get healed up and rejoin the fight! I'm taking the rest of the platoon straight to these Imps. Gotta give them hell and meet their Maker right?"_

Cara let out a long long sigh. The holovid continued.

_"After this shit show is over, you owe me a drink for what I did today! It's not every day I save the asses of people I sort of like!"_

Cara could hear the smugness through the broken holovid and let out a small smile.

_"See you on the other side! Lu, over and out."_

Lu. Goddamn _Lu _.__ It must have been three or so years since she last saw her, surrounded by a pile of dead Imps, swinging down her blades with cold hatred. Not a day went by that Cara didn't think about her planet, her family, and of Lu. They had butted heads at first but soon formed a strong sister bond. Cara thought about the Mandalorian she met today. She slightly regretted his departure since she claimed dibs on Sorgan first. She should've hired his bounty hunter services to track down the little trouble maker that was occupying her memories. Yeah, Lu would've liked the mysterious Mandalorian. They were alike in quite a few ways.

She didn't hear the footsteps of a lone warrior encroaching upon her little setup as she was swept up in her thoughts.

A pouch of credits landed at her feet, clinking together as they did so. Cara startled by the sound, took her hand holding the blaster from under the pack and aimed it at the visitor.

The familiar sight of the Mandalorian's armor glinted warmly from the campfire.

"Ready for round two?"

* * *

The Mandalorian and Cara Dune were busy loading up the Razor Crest after departing from the village. The frog-eating child sat on one of the crates inside the gunship watching the warriors go about their heavy lifting work.

The duo was hired to drive out Klatooinian raiders that repeatedly pillaged the village for their krill. Driving them out successfully, they stayed to help the villagers rebuild their homes. Peace never lasts long as another bounty hunter with a tracking fob had located them. Cara had dispatched the Kubaz bounty hunter that was after the Child. In order to ensure the safety of the village, the Mandalorian decided to part the backwater planet and its residents with the Child in tow. Seeing this as an opportunity, Cara escorted them back to the Razor Crest.

"I need a favor. Especially since I pretty much saved your goblin kid."

He heard her but didn't stop as he continued taking crates inside the gunship. "Figured you wanted something since you were adamant about providing an escort."

She was unfazed at his blunt tone. "If you're out there and come close to Numidian Prime, I have an old war buddy I need you to do a wellness check for me."

Hearing this made him pause and turn with a slight inquisitive tilt to his head.

"Actually." She took out a pouch with some credits and tossed it to him. "Drag her ass back here. I think it's high time she took a bit of a spotchka break."

"You're hiring me for a bounty?"

"Isn't that what you were doing before anyways?"

She wasn't wrong. The small number of credits the villagers split between him and Cara wasn't even enough for fuel these days. The amount she gave him would last for a few weeks for him and the kid while trying to hide from bounty hunters. Surely Cara's _favor _would be easy enough to see through.__

"Seems like a great place for a war veteran to retire." He said sarcastically.

Cara gave him that same look when they first talked in the cantina.

"I had intel that she's been using it as a home base of sorts. Apparently, she gathers a lot of her own intel from the colorful sort of people that only visit Numidian Prime."

"So then, you're retiring out here so why you're sticking your neck out for this person?" He pressed.

"I owe her a life debt. One of our drops almost went sideways. Shrapnel makes a great dinner. If she didn't help me when she did, I wouldn't be standing here. Last time I saw her, she was cutting down those Imps like nothing. After that, I woke up in a medcenter. She was gone like the wind and left nothing behind except for a holovid to yours truly."

Cara looked towards the direction of the village, her forehead creased and arms crossed.

"She is still alive out there. Her hatred for the Imps is as great as mine. Last I heard, she became some sort of underground mercenary. That's why she's on Numidian Prime. With the intel she gathers, she hops planet after planet wiping out lingering pockets of Imp forces if she catches wind of them."

"You have no fob." The Mandalorian was curious yet cautious. Cara seemed to have this person in high regard. He would be lying to himself if he wasn't curious to see the woman that saved the seasoned war veteran. He has grown to respect her when they were raising hell those few weeks ago.

"Nope," popping the p as her head did a little shook.

"How would I - "

"You can't miss her," she cut him off. She's a lot like you in a way." Her hand gestured to his being.

"Shiny blue… armor, fights well with twin vibro-arbir blades, likes to wear ponchos for some reason. She's also like a cactus, prickly on the outside and soft on the inside. Don't tell her I said that but you'll get along fantastically."

She continued unloading the sled. " I call her Lu but I don't know what others call her by these days. I sort of _swindled_ her name out of her. So you might not want to mention that - she might kill you and then me." Cara let out a breathless chuckle from the exertion of carrying the supplies.

"She sounds like trouble already." He sighed dryly.

"That she is. Take some of the credits and buy a couple of meiloorun melons, that will make her soften up to your equally prickly personality too." The veteran huffed over her shoulder unknowingly making the Mandalorian flinch at the mention of that fruit.

Cara finished loading the heaviest crates into the Razor Crest. She walked back to the repulsorlift sled and turned to the Mandalorian.

"Well then, until our paths cross again." Her muscled forearm jutted upwards towards him. She smiled at him and she knew he was probably doing the same under the bucket on his head.

"Until our paths cross." They respectfully clasped hands and shook on it, both of them content in having a new ally.

The Mandalorian watched Cara drive towards the village, out of his sight. He boarded the gunship along with the few remaining supplies with the hatch closing behind him. The Child was still sitting on one of the crates, entertained by the unscrewed ball from one of the console control levers. The Child cooed as he was picked up and the duo headed towards the cockpit to embark on a new destination.

The Mandalorian turned towards his young co-pilot.

"Ever tried meiloorun melons before? I once had a friend that made herself sick by eating a whole tree full of them."

…..

…..

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell yeah, I'm amped to start writing for this fandom. Like all you guys, I fell in love with our sexy Mandalorian and the ever-adorable Baby Yoda. Our tragic boy needs a little lovin' so I hope to give him that. At the start of the chapter's blurb, there's a tag for sexual abuse and rape of a minor. I will never go into explicit detail but I thought a heads up is in order.  
> …..  
> …..  
> …..  
> Toss a review to your writer, oh readers of plenty!


	2. The Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …..  
> The Mandalorian is on the hunt for meiloorun melons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions a certain Jedi seen in Star Wars: Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith (2017) comic. They are never named but its a minor spoiler if anything. More info/spoilers at the end!
> 
> PS. Read this comic if you love a ruthless Darth Vader, it's so fucking good!

** Chapter 2: The Vision  
**

…..  
  
…..  
  
…..

After leaving Sorgan two weeks ago, The Mandalorian spent doing odd jobs around the outer-rim, slowly making his way towards the mid-rim. He was currently hiding out on Karlinus, an agri-world located in the Chommell sector. It was a few parsec jumps away from Numidian Prime so he figured it was a good time as any to buy several meiloorun melons and find supplies before heading back towards the outer rim.

He perused a local farmers market, stocking up on rations while keeping an eye out for the melon that will hopefully make his quarry not as hostile as he thought she would be.

The Child had tagged along to escape the stuffed ship. He left the safety of his floating bassinet and toddled from stall to stall - his cute charm persuaded many of the softhearted vendors to give him samples of what foods they were selling - the little con artist. He seemed content with eating something that was not in his diet of frog legs and bone broth.

The Mandalorian kept a watchful eye on his young charge. “Once we find the meiloorun melons, you'll never want to eat anything else.” He paused mid-step with an ache in his chest.

 _“Hurry up! Old Man Loginnu has a bunch of meiloorun trees ripe enough to be picked already. I don’t want to eat anything else besides that for the whole week!_ Her face was a blur but it was a little red-headed girl. She laughed, climbed to the top of the farm’s border fence and yelled down to the smaller child — “What are you afraid of?” and flipped over to the other side.

 _“What am I afraid of? Its old man Loginnu! That's why! He’ll skin us alive a-and display it for the e-entire village to see! I heard he has an e-entire bantha rug he killed and skinned himself!”_ The smaller boy’s voice cracked with fear. He struggled to climb over the fence as the older girl did. The fence snagged his red robe and he topped over, thankfully, into the girls awaiting arms like she had been anticipating his blunder.

She set him down. _“Don’t be silly, Din-in! He can’t do that to us if we don't get caught. Let's hurry!”_ The young girl ran into a thicket of bushes leaving him behind.

 _“Wait, what do you mean?!”_ The young boy shrieked reluctantly following the blur of red hair that was headed for the meiloorun trees.

The hunter picked up his pace, burrowing that memory down with all the other unpleasant ones. It was no use remembering the past. No use thinking about a dead little girl and her fixation with the fruit he was looking for.

In the midst of burying those memories, he noticed the Child wasn’t by his side anymore. He turned back to see him walking a little slower than before and then just plop down on the dirt road. The Mandalorian’s shadow fell over the little creature in an instant. He kneeled, eyebrows furrowed, palms sweaty as he gently touched its wrinkled head. A million thoughts ran through his head as to what ailed the Child. As the Mandalorian fretted over the baby, it gave a lazy crumb-littered smile to his protector and his eyes drooped.

The kid was certainly giving him more gray hairs earlier than anticipated. The little thing had tired himself out by eating all those samples. He placed the child in the floating bassinet, tucking him in and wiping off the remnants of crumbs with finally closing the hatch so he won’t be bothered.

The Mandalorian trudged on through the farmers market with the bassinet close to his side. He visited almost every stall but none of the vendors were carrying the melon and was about to call it quits in his search when a prickling sensation entered his mind with a warm wispy voice calling out to him.

“Looking for _this_ , Mr. Mandalorian?”

He turned to see an old woman holding the blasted melon in her big wrinkled fleshy hand. She was a light red in color, her hunched body was covered by overlapping robes but her head was huge. It held two large, curved horns protruding downwards towards her chest.

He cautiously strolled over to her stall that held baked goods. Not once had he expressed to the vendors that he was looking for that particular fruit. His hand hovered over his blaster, his narrowed eyed studying her.

“There’s no need for that you know.”

“No, I don’t know. Who are you? How did you know I was looking for it?" Paranoia settled in his stomach.

“I had a vision last month during my daily meditation that you would be coming soon.”

He scoffed skeptically at this.

"I take it you are not familiar with my kind." Shrugging off at his tense rudeness.

She went further into her stall, a silent invitation for the Mandalorian to follow. He did - figuring he would have the upper hand if anything were to happen. He needed that melon.

She led the duo through a hallway that was attached to a bigger dwelling, her house. The room they stopped at was an eating area. There was a small table with a couple of chairs. She wheeled in a wooden barrel as a third seat. The hunter watched with careful eyes, surveying every inch of the interior and at his host who was coming back and forth from a nearby kitchen - he guessed - since she was setting the table with place mats, utensils, and dishes. Finally, bringing out a tray of fruit tarts, a pot of tea, warm bread, and a jar of jam.

He occupied one of the seats at the table. "I'm not hungry, thank you." He lied. The food she set out looked good and _smelled_ very familiar, he had skipped lunch and breakfast had been hours ago.

"Oh, it's not for you, it's for the babe”, she corrected him.

He figured she probably saw the greenling out at the farmer’s market before putting him in the bassinet.

"It will go to waste, he’s sleeping at the moment," he countered.

She sat opposite of him, her eyes twinkled and her smile widened. She filled the cup with tea, the plate with food and pushed it gently over to the Child's bassinet. Before he could protest again, there was a small coo of the child wanting to be let out. The Mandalorian made a surprised noise at the back of his throat which he tried to cover with a cough. The cover to the bassinet unfolded at his command. Big sleepy but curious eyes drank in the setting they were in. His eyes immediately zoned in on the treats at the table. The woman was amused as she watched the Mandalorian let out a heavy sigh and placed the child on top of the wooden barrel. The kid really did not waste any time inhaling the offerings.

“Thank you.” He amended with sincerity to his rude responses earlier. “However, I still have questions.”

“I will only answer what I know of.” She offered.

He wasted no time in questioning her. “I know what your species is. You’re an Iktotchi. But I’m not entirely familiar with the abilities that pertain to your kind.”

She sipped a bit of her tea, thinking of how to explain it plainly to the Mandalorian. “Precognition is what they call it. Knowledge and perception of the future. My old age and distance from home has greatly affected it. I used to be able to think about the hours, minutes, days, _years_ into the future. Now it takes great effort. When I was once able to command it on my own, now it comes by itself in fragments.”

He watched her spread some jam onto a piece of bread before offering it to the Child and then doing the same for herself. The only sound he could hear was the bustling of the locals outside, the noisy munches of the child and the static breathing coming from his helmet.

He waited for her to continue, he was sure there was more to it than that.

“When I first came here, it was difficult settling down. The villagers were wary of husband, my son and I since we all shared the same abilities. No one would buy or trade with us. One day, my husband had tried to warn the villagers of incoming raiders. He had foreseen them, but the villagers didn’t listen up until their homes were in flames.”

She paused, refilling the cups with tea for herself and the Child.

“. . . My husband died protecting them. The village had come together and apologized for their actions, finally accepting us for the heroic deeds my husband did that night. For years I was part of the village council, my visions had helped us. No more being un-prepared for raiders, bad crop years, or bad weather. But with my aging mind, I retired. Now the villagers come for my fruit tarts and jams more than anything.” She smiled at that last part.

The Mandalorian was silent throughout her tale. His helmet moved as he peered around, his bio scans didn’t pick up any other set of footprints beside theirs.

“My son is not here anymore if you’re wondering… he was recruited by a _faction_ of the Galactic Republic a long time ago. And when the Republic became the Empire, that’s when he died. I saw him you know. He was fighting on a water-world, I think he was trying to help the Rebel Alliance.” The hand that was holding her teacup trembled slightly. “I saw a dark shadow kill my boy. That day was when my precognition ability had started wavering.”

“I'm sorry”, the Mandalorian said looking at her pained eyes. The same war she had mentioned was the same one where he lost his home, parents, and his dear friend. He understood her loss and pain very intimately. She was all alone with no family and away from her people much like he was. His fists curled on his lap.

“It all happened long ago my dear boy,” she lamented.

She excused herself from the room and ruffled around as if she was looking for something. After several minutes, she came back with a covered bushel basket before disappearing back into the kitchen. Like any good hostess, she brought out more fruit tarts for the Child who happily accepted.

He sensed the Iktotchi woman wanted to move on from her pained past, but she hadn’t yet revealed what she saw in her visions pertaining to him.

Trying to coax more out of her, he continued the conversation. “So, because of your _gift_ , you saw I was searching for the meiloorun melons.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “The melon trees grow by a river about two days walk from here. I cultivated them before you arrived.”

She uncovered the basket, and there the melons were. He leaned in, judging the bushel. He picked one up and showed it off to the kid. It had an orange and yellow rind with horn-like spines scattered around it. She had picked them at their ripest, they were all a good coloring and he recognized the pleasant aroma it emitted - threatening to jog that memory from before.

“I took the most handsome ones, made tarts and jams out of them. I was told by the teenage ragamuffins that they taste quite ‘kriffing good’.” She barked out a laugh.

Ah, so that’s why the treats smelled so familiar. They were made from meilooruns. It had been _years_ since he last ate the fruit, surprisingly the smell of them never escaped his memories.

“As I said before, I had my vision about you and this fruit nearly a month ago. Visions correlating to it came in fragments and when I saw you today it all made sense. I didn’t know what will happen, but my visions never steer me wrong. I saw where the melons were located, when it was the right time to go pick them and when you were going to arrive and with whom… all according to plan.” She sounded proud of herself and he knew she was telling him the truth.

The Iktotchi started putting everything away, their conversation wrapping up. The hunter picked up the greenling, wiping the remnants of crumbs again before placing him in the bassinet.

“You're going to need seven.” She placed the meilooruns in a sack and disappeared back to the kitchen for a moment.

When she came back he asked, “Why seven?”

“Call it a woman’s intuition,” she revealed nothing with a mischievous smile. He mused it was something with her Iktotchi abilities.

She guided them back to the front of her stall. They must have been talking for a couple of hours since the planet’s sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow to everything in its path. She held it out the sack to him and he tried to compensate her with Cara’s small pouch of credits.

“There's no need for that.” Pushing the pouch back to him.

“I insist.” The Mandalorian’s paranoia had long ceased. The old woman had shown him nothing but kindness. She was a good person and he wanted to do right by giving her something in return.

“I make triple the amount in two weeks. Your company today was sufficient Mr. Mandalorian. Now I can have other visions that don't pertain to this fruit.” She quipped and was certainly not wavering with her decision.

She leaned into the green babe, her fat fleshy finger gently scratching his wrinkled forehead before straightening up and nodding to the duo a farewell.

The Mandalorian’s shiny helmet tipped forward, echoing the sentiment. He walked away with the Child at his side, already dozing off with its belly full of meiloorun treats.

“Mr. Mandalorian.” The Iktotchi woman called out to him as she did before. The same prickling sensation entered his head. He did a half-turn towards her. They were quite away from her house but he had heard her as clear as day.

Her mouth did not move. "The meilooruns are your past, present, and future . . . May the force be with you.” Her eyes seemed to twinkle with certain knowledge, she then shuttered her stall and went back into her home.

Well, that was an ability she failed to mention. He mused over what she telepathically said to him, it was cryptic as hell. Were all Iktotchi like that? _‘The meilooruns are your past, present, and future’ -_ deciphering all that gave him a headache. Did she withhold visions and refuse to tell him? He had half a mind to go back and find her.

And that last part - _'May the force be with you'_ \- was that an Iktotchi blessing? He’d have to analyze all of that later on the holo-net to see if it revealed anything else about the Iktotchi. He continued on towards the Razor Crest.

The sun had finally set with darkness consuming the planet. The hunter finished loading up the supplies he bought and secured the sleeping Child to his sleeping quarters. Taking the meiloorun melons out of the sack, he placed them in a cooling chamber so they won’t spoil so soon. The sack had an additional weight to them and he was pleasantly surprised to see that the Iktotchi woman had also packed a thermos of tea, a loaf of bread with a jar of meiloorun jam and also the fruit tarts. The food was divided and loaded up on to a small plate with the rest stashed away.

The Mandalorian climbed the ladder towards the cockpit while balancing his dinner. He settled in and inputted the coordinates for Numidian Prime - making sure the Child was still asleep he removed his helmet. The cool air of the ship tickled his tan skin, his ungloved hands ruffled his dark helmet hair and then swept over his face, wincing slightly as he passed over the growing scruff - that will have to be shaven soon.

The ship was now entering hyperspace, it would be a few hours before reaching its destination. He leaned back in his seat, dark eyes tiredly eyed the plate of food and he gave in. It was better than the ration packets he ate daily. “Yeah, that’s pretty kriffing good,” agreeing with the ragamuffins that had praised the old woman’s baked goods - he ate every crumb before allowing the hum of the ship in hyperspace lull him to sleep. That night he welcomed the dreams of the little girl with red hair.

_“See, Din-in? Told ya you'll never want to eat anything else!”_

* * *

_Elsewhere on a rainy day in the deep jungles of Numidian Prime…_

A Gungan barman was sweeping up the remnants of a recent fight in his cantina - the results of a Sabacc game gone wrong. He picked up flipped tables and chairs and continued gathering up the glass that was littered everywhere. His one eye frowned at a particular pool of blood staining his floor.

The batwing doors to the cantina suddenly opened and a cloaked figure entered. Rain droplets cascaded from the water-proof poncho they were wearing. The barman leaned against the broom and gave his late-night visitor a welcoming nod. The visitor exchanged the same greeting.

“How can mesa help yousa tonight M’lady?” He croaked out. His hand swept to the side, offering her a seat to a nearby booth. The cloaked woman made her way over to it and sat down, the Gungan doing so after she did.

She pulled her hood down, revealing a dark silver helmet with chipped blue paint outlining the Y-shaped visor. The woman’s modulated voice rattled the empty establishment.

“Yo-Yorg, you sent word that you have some information for me?”

The Gungan, Yo-Yorg, cautiously relayed what he knew. “Mesa dun no much M’lady. A Klatooinian bounty hunta willa comen morrow. Hesa carries some information aboutsa da appearance of da Imperial Remnant.”

There was a pregnant pause. The visitor clenched her red gloved hands into a tightening fist. Her breathing became labored and it translated to static through the helmet. Yo-Yorg’s one eye carefully studied her actions.

She finally belted out, “How are you so sure about this? Its been a while since I’ve heard of a sighting.”

“Yousa did a good too job with da other Imp huntas. Notsa many left.” He grinned widely showing off his razor-sharp teeth.

“That’s where you’re wrong Yo-Yorg. The body of the snake still has its head. Like a snake, they’re still hiding in a hole somewhere till its convenient for them to come out and strike again.” Her hands itched to reach under the helmet and rub her temples to ease the growing headache.

“Da hunter had said hesa was there when da Imps started fightin’. Hesa said no more, wanting to be paid for da information.” He then left the booth to go back towards the kitchen of the cantina.

The woman sat there, contemplating that small piece of news. She was trying to form a plan. This bounty hunter better has information on how many Imps there are, what weapons they were stocked with, and most importantly, who was their leader. Logistics, logistics, she was going to have to find a crew soon.

The barman came back, “Mesa has something to warm you up from the rain, M’lady. Ta-da! Soup with bantha meat and a side of fritzle fries!” The Gungan knew his lady never took off her helmet so he had the food packed up to go.

“You sure know how to cheer me up, Yo-Yorg.” She got up from the booth and deposited several credits on the table for his help. She turned to leave and paused at the batwing doors.

“Send word when this bounty hunter arrives and let me know if anything else pops up in the radar.”

“Mesa isa yous informer. What mesa hears and sees, hesa tells yous M’lady.”

The woman nodded, thanking her ally. She pulled her hood up and walked out into the rain again.

…..  
  
…..  
  
…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck, this was a monster of a chapter! I'm at a point where I'm starting to mix in other Star Wars media to supplement the Mandalorian-verse. I'm a big Star Wars nerd and regularly read the comics and books - canon and legends! If you don't want to be spoiled about certain events in the animated shows/comics/books, I'll always include a chapter note in the beginning about a particular scene. The tags will also be increasing with anything that alludes to other Star Wars stuff.
> 
> I also gave myself a headache writing for my Gungan OC. :^D 
> 
> // SPOILERS for Star Wars: Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith (2017) comic //
> 
> This chapter mentioned an Iktotchi woman. She's an OC I made up along with her backstory but her son is the real deal! I made her to be the mom of Ferren Barr, a padawan that escaped Order 66 and used his precognitive abilities to foresee the Mon Calamari's role in the Rebellion against the Empire. He was a bit of a dick at how he handled that though. Anything I used to describe the Iktotchi's was derived from its article on Wookieepedia.  
> …..  
> …..  
> …..  
> Thank you so much to everyone that left kudos, bookmarked and subscribed! A special thanks goes out to Raven802 for leaving the first comment to The Favor! <3 
> 
> Toss a review to your writer, oh readers of plenty!


	3. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …..  
> Our hunky Mandalorian finally arrives on Numidian Prime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the extremely late update! Before 'rona got in the way, I had tinkered so much with this chapter. It was at a whopping 35 pages which I was then able to cut down to 15 and then added 4 more pages to it (haha fuck). Enjoy 19 pages of Mando vs my OC! The rest of the pages I saved is for the next update, so hopefully I won't take as long this time around.
> 
> PSA: I commissioned an artist to draw my OC and several important characters/scenes as the fic progresses. There's a pic at the end of this chapter!

** Chapter 3: The Arrival **

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Now it's a good time to see why the Mandalorian didn't want to come all the way to Numidian Prime at the edge of the Mid Rim. Numidian Prime was a warm and beautiful planet, but it was also a giant treacherous jungle. It’s high trees, thick foliage, and dangerous fauna made it a safe haven for gamblers, thieves, smugglers, spice dealers, fugitives and plenty of other shady characters. It was a bounty hunter’s wet dream. But no sane bounty hunter would dare hunt a bounty on Numidian Prime. Its inhabitants all wanted one thing: a safe haven away from the eyes of the New Republic or anyone that wanted them dead. They would fight tooth and nail to protect their own so any bounty hunters that dared to come here on business were never to be seen again.

Just that last line of thought put the Mandalorian on edge. Technically, he _was_ here on business. He hoped to find his bounty and explain to her _why_ he accepted this job on behalf of Cara and avoid any incoming wrath.

If he were to find this person, he'd have to be quick about it. No stopping for supplies and definitely not attracting any attention to himself or the kid that was sleeping in the bassinet beside him.

The Razor Crest hovered over the planet. From orbit, it was just a mass of light and dark greens. But if you peered closer, there’s the hint of an outpost where most of the planets’ inhabitants lived. It was directly under him, but he didn't know where to safely land among the trees. The ship’s navicomputer lights started to blink rapidly as the Razor Crest let out a warning that it was locked on by a long-range weapon. A command center was hailing him. That was odd, he couldn’t see any visible command tower which would have been visible from his elevation. He let the operator through.

“This is NumiPri Tower. Pilot, we are tracking you, please state your business on Numidian Prime.” The operator ordered tersely, the comm crackled with static as they waited for his response.

There was only one safe answer to get that tracking weapon off of the ship — “Safe haven.” He held his breath for what seemed like an eternity with hands on the yoke ready for evasive maneuvers if anything.

“. . . Copy that. Head for landing pad five-five.” They said after a tense while.

He sighed in relief. Orders were simple enough, except where the hell was the landing pad? He was about to call them back when a yellow Twi-lek boy wearing a bright orange vest popped into his view, contrasting against the greens of the jungle and began marshaling signals to the Razor Crest with equally bright orange and green batons.

“Locked in for five-five.” He affirmed back, navigating the ship lower towards the surface.

The warning lights in the ship shut off at that. A neat system they had. The landing pad was just a clearing in the jungle big enough for his ship. He could see other landing pads with docked ships all separated by the trees as its walls. They used the planet's dense trees as protection, you couldn’t even see them if you were hovering directly above them. This kind of natural protection deemed Numidian Prime excellent for all the unsavory characters it harbored.

Once safely on the ground, the Mandalorian sealed the sleeping babe in his personal quarters. He wouldn't like to wake up without his guardian there, but it would be a quick job, get the war veteran, in and out, or so he hoped. That’s why he had the brilliant idea of taking one of the meiloorun melons in a sack as a peace offering.

“Like coaxing a dog with a bone.” He said aloud to no one but himself.

He exited out of the ship’s back ramp and breathed in deeply, the filter in his helmet raked in the earthy aroma, a nice change from the musky scent that lingered in the Crest. Venturing further out, he was immediately surrounded by a ragtag quintet of children, all different species and of varying ages. They looked curiously at the Razor Crest and its shiny chrome pilot. They were antsy and talked amongst themselves but made no move to approach him. From their dirty appearance and the way they carried mechanical tools, they were part of the maintenance crew despite their young age.

“Yer ship needs any repairs or fuel, sir? The oldest of the children, a Tholothian girl about nine years old, emerged from the whispering group. She had warm brown skin — weathered and held faint scars if he looked more closely. She held a sharp but eager gaze, wanting to work and earn some credits by the way she held a scanner and a datapad ready to take down notes. She was fiddling with her datapad, kept glancing up and down from his armor to his visor: antsy like she wanted to say something on the tip of her tongue.

“No. Is there a berth I have to pay for?”

The girl’s mottled pink tendrils on her cranium head shook. “No sir, anything else we can help you with?”

“Yes, I'm looking for someone.”

“Not a bounty, right?” Her professional demeanor turned downright hostile at the potential threat. Her hand hovered over a comlink strapped to her belt.

He sighed, “No, an acquaintance of sorts.”

She calmed down some, her piercing aqua eyes studied him carefully. The group of children hadn’t stopped appraising the Mandalorian from behind their leader until the same marshaller Twi’lek boy ran up to him. The Mandalorian tilted his helmet downwards in acknowledgment. Children always seemed fond of the beskar-clad warriors no matter where he went.

His fists pumped up and down with excitement. “Maker’s shorts! Are you looking for _M’lady_? Her armor is —”

The oldest placed a hand on his shoulder and hissed, “Kor’anno! We are forbidden from telling outsiders.”

“B-but Satele! He’s a Mandalorian! _M’lady_ must —” He started to protest but the girl pushed him back towards the other children. Appeasing the restless group by muttering that she will “comm her later”.

The Mandalorian was silent and observant during this exchange, impressed with the authority the young Tholothian exhibited over the rambunctious group.

She cleared her throat, getting back to the matter at hand. “Don’t mind him, he just gets excited about seeing new people.”

“Who is this _M’lady_ the boy speaks of? Is she the boss around here?” The boy in question let out a sheepish smile as Satele sent him a side-glare.

She whipped towards him now and snapped with an undertone of protectiveness.

“That information is certainly not for outsiders.”

Her knuckles turned white from gripping the datapad, the sleeve to her jacket fell slightly, revealing the scarred flesh of a slave brand on the back of her hand. He didn’t make a comment on it but was disgusted that Numidian Prime used slaves so close to the territories of the New Republic that outlawed slavery. The other children didn’t sport any similar brands from what he could tell.

Her face flushed with that little outburst, realizing that the outsider has been polite and patient even if a little intimidating.

“I — We have protocols here, sir —” she straightened and wore the concentration of an adult again and pointed to a distant trail beyond the tree line. “Keep walking that way until you hit the main outpost. Find the cantina wedged between the two big trees and talk to Yo-Yorg, he’s the barman and the second-in-charge around here. He knows everyone.”

He gave her an appreciative nod, took out a few credits and tossed it to her.

“Thanks, kid. Make sure no one goes near my ship. Share that with the rest of your troop.”

Satele gave a hasty salute and scurried back to the children.

He went through the mental checklist, making sure he had everything; enough amban rifle rounds, vibro-knife in his boot, grenade and smoke charges — just in case of course and set out in the direction the girl told him.

* * *

Not soon after he left, a _very_ disgruntled green baby woke up to find his guardian missing and that the open rear hangar of the ship was surrounded by a group of curious children and an angry Tholothian girl running up to them.

“OI! We were paid to make sure no one goes near the Mandalorian’s ship!”

“Ya, but he didn’t specify us.” Kor’anno countered.

“You guys are impossible, hurry up and close —” The girl paused mid-order as she spotted the green baby surveying them.

The children turned around and immediately descended upon him just as they did to the Mandalorian. The Child’s ears perked in happiness and gave them a greeting with a wave of his little hand. The quintet formed by Satele, Kor’anno, Keedi the Rodian, human sisters Patoor and Ytoor let out a chorus of aww’s and eww’s and a jumble of other assessments.

“It’s so gross! What is it?” Keedi wheezed.

“Nu-huh! He’s so darn cute I just wanna squeeze him! — Wait, it's a he right?” Patoor inquired.

The group collectively shrugged.

“Stars! Is that what that Mandalorian looks like under there!?”

“No, then we would’ve seen big ole ears just like him.” Ytoor scratched behind the Child’s ears as it twitched at the mention of his protector and let out an adorable giggle.

“Maybe it’s his food?” The Child then gave a squawk of protest at this.

“In any case,” Satele squatted in front of the child and booped his nose, why is a baby traveling with a Mandalorian?”

The Child placed a clawed hand on Satele’s knee, the other one tried to grab a tendril that fell over of her shoulder. He let the comforting prickle of energy wash over them both and concluded that he quite liked this girl: she felt nice, warm like sunshine that reminded him of Winta.

She must’ve felt something too because she placed a hand on his cheek and gave him a grand smile.

Kor'anno then suggested, “Maybe M’lady will let us keep him? Then the Mandalorian can come visit us more often. His armor is wicked!” The other kids whooped with approval.

Satele had a feeling the Mandalorian had something else planned with his visit. And the multiple reasons _why_ the baby was traveling with him didn’t ease her mind at all. She didn’t notice how she absentmindedly rubbed her slave brand while surveying the baby for irregularities or injuries, anything that could implicate the Mandalorian so she could report to _her._

Satisfied with not finding anything she turned to the group, “Then it’s settled. In the meantime how about we show our newest member the way we _Fives_ do things around here?” 

“Wouldn’t it be _Sixes_ now?” Kor’anno corrected. In response, Satele cuffed him on the back of his head and the Child laughed along.

* * *

The outpost was hidden deeper in the jungles of the planet compared to the landing pads. The Mandalorian thought he would have gotten lost if it weren't for the natural trail of foot traffic in the dirt. He came upon the entrance to the outpost, heavily guarded, making it a deterrent for anyone looking to start trouble. The posted guards eyed the visitor with surprised curiosity but made no move to stop him.

He walked around, scouted his surroundings for any suspicious individuals that would have it out for him. A path diverted to a small bar with a gambling area, sabacc players either uttering profanities or boasting about their luck, there were a few market stalls and small huts differently assembled: an indication of the various species that came from all over the galaxy. The vendors in the marketplace stopped in their dealings to take a look at the outsider. So much for unwanted attention but he just hoped nothing would come of it.

The cantina was built in between two thick trees just as the girl said. As he got closer, he could hear faint jizz music emanating from inside. The minute he came in, all eyes were on him. They huddled around each other, whispering about the newcomer just as the vendors outside and the young maintenance crew did.

The whispering stopped as he approached the bar and came face-to-face with a one-eyed Gungan. The Gungan looked behind the Mandalorian and all the patrons turned back to their business but still poised an ear while casting furtive glances at their conversation.

The Gungan initiated the conversation, an orange eye transfixed on the dark visor trying to peep at the face underneath it.

“Yousa needa hot meal or a room perhaps?”

“I am looking for someone.”

“Nosta bounty, hm?” He heard shuffling behind him and pictured the patrons readying their weapons.

“No,” he lied to the same question for the second time that day. The shuffling somewhat ceased.

Heightened voices spewed from an opened door of a private room as a yellow Twi-Lek male emerged. He joined Yo-Yorg at the bar, crossed his arms and regarded the Mandalorian with contempt. The toothy Twi-lek boy from the landing pad must be related to him — a stark difference in personality.

He continued, “Mesa knows everyone. What do yousa know ‘bout them-sa?”

Cara said she called her friend _Lu_ but told him not to call her that. He didn't know what this person went by and he figured the description Cara gave him wasn't much to go by either.

 _“They_ are a woman, she has quite a reputation according to my source. A war veteran in blue armor fights with a vibro-arbir blade and probably wears a poncho. I don’t have much else besides that.”

Yo-Yorg’s lips curled into a ferocious grin and the cantina chatter picked up again, roused at what he said. He stood corrected; they definitely knew who he was talking about.

“Ah, yesa her. Maken nosa mistake Mandalorian, while da war has ended shesa became a many tings,” he started listing, “a marauder, smuggler, an —”

“Imp hunter?” The Mandalorian supplied.

“Aye. But notsa war veteran. Da war has neva left _M’lady_.” He nodded sagely.

“She’s the one I’m looking for then.” More questions brewed in his head as he noted that the title of _M’lady_ was tied to Cara’s friend.

The Gungan’s one eye nervously shifted to the private room, the arguing voices inside were getting louder.

“The children in the landing pad also mentioned a _M’lady_. I take it she’s the one in charge here?”

Yo-Yorg dodged his question. “Why do yousa seek her? All Mandalorians, da few dat survived the Purge, have a reputation as bounty huntas. Shesa willa not take lightly to people dat come for her.”

“My business between me and this woman is of no concern to you.” The Gungan looked miffed.

The Mandalorian leaned over the counter and pressed for more information, “I want a name and her whereabouts.”

The yellow Twi-lek, not liking the incessant questions, unclipped the holster on his blaster.

“Easy dere Kug’narus. Our boyo here is just curious. But curiosity killed the Loth-cat, hm?” Kug’narus stepped back but didn’t relent his hold on his blaster. He joined in on the conversation.

“She usurped the previous asshole of a leader and improved Numidian Prime to what it is today. Made it a safe haven for everyone that seeks it. This is her domain. She’s our _Lady_ — we protect her from nosy visitors,” he pointed to him for emphasis, “who are not privy to her personal information.”

The cantina clientele who were totally _not_ listening in on their conversation hoisted their drinks in the air and let out a round of agreement.

The Mandalorian felt like the tables were turning on him. He was severely outnumbered and had to play his cards right if he wanted to leave unscathed.

“I’m just here to talk to her. A mutual ally of ours asked me to come here.” He said coolly.

The ensuing argument from the private room was at its boiling point. Some of the patrons even started to leave, sensing an incoming cantina brawl.

Yo-Yorg peculiarly stared at him, now interested in what he had to say. “What ally asked yousa to comen here? Only a few know of —”

The Gungan was cut off from saying more when the door to the private room swung open, nearly falling off its hinges as a Klatooinian male stumbled out of it, falling on his back. He had blood pouring from his mouth, no doubt from the punch that had sent him flying through the door.

The Mandalorian and everyone in the cantina all stared at the scene. He particularly focused on the figure emerging after the fallen man.

Thick brown boots clunked on the floor, the right one raised and planted firmly on the chest of the male. He clawed at it, trying to pry it off to no avail. Double extendable spikes then emerged from the tip of the boot which caused the alien to cease his struggle and gave a shout of distress at the increased pressure and at the spikes mere inches from digging into his throat.

The Mandalorian’s eyes trailed up and drank in the appearance of this figure, widening behind his helmet as he did so. This person was wearing _beskar’gam_ , Mandalorian armor! His throat went dry and his heartbeat went a little faster, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or trepidated at seeing another _mando’ad_ , especially one based on Numidian Prime. From his earlier sweep of the outpost and cantina, there were no other Mandalorians based here besides this one. He didn’t want to think about why they were here amongst these people that he considered walking credits and not in the safety of a tribe.

He continued to appraise the other Mandalorian behind the safety of his helmet. Their armor was dark metallic silver and littered with scratches and dents, parts of it streaked with blue paint, chipped and faded from years of use. From what he could see, a vambrace sat on their left forearm, no pauldron was attached to that limb. _Curious_ , he thought. They wore a hulking cuirass that covered their entire torso, reminiscent of one of Paz’s station, a heavy assault class. He deduced that it had to be male Mandalorian if they wore that kind of cuirass. Women rarely joined the heavy assaults due to the daunting nature of them being heavily armed and armored.

“You’re making a big mistake you slimy piece of WORM-RIDDEN FILTH! I have contacts!” The Klatooinian spat at him, bloody spittle flying everywhere.

With an air of laziness, he draped a tan poncho over his shoulders, obscuring the rest of the armor but mindful of the twin vibro-arbir blade strapped to his back and then bent over the form on the floor.

A modulated honeyed voice emerged from the familiar Mandalorian helm. “Do you now? Tell them I said hello.”

Eight short words. In those eight short words, the Mandalorian realized that it was not a man, but a _woman_! While the modulator made one’s voice sound — well, modulated — it didn’t hide the fact that it was a woman’s voice permeating through it.

The Klatooinian looked around for his crew, still flailing under the heavy boot, he fearfully doubled back at the shiny glint of the other Mandalorian’s armor.

“Oh _kriff_ , today is not a good day for me,” he anguished. 

She looked at what captured her prey’s attention. The Mandalorian tensed and readied himself as the woman rose to her full height, turned towards him and squared her shoulders.

They locked gazes, T-visor meeting Y-visor. Her visor was set in a permanent glare, adding to her challenging aura. It was outlined with chipped blue paint which went up to the raised comb in the center top of her head. The people inside the cantina were agitated, feeling suffocated by the tension in the room.

He blinked, coming to a realization. He eyed the scuffed blue paint on her helmet, to the tan poncho and finally to the twin vibro-arbir blade strapped to her back. This, _this_ was Cara’s friend _Lu_ ? A fellow Mandalorian? Cara certainly _failed_ to divulge that piece of information.

Lu spoke again, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Yo-Yorg, is my visor malfunctioning or is there a Mandalorian bounty hunter in our midst?”

“Aye, M’lady. But hesa said hesa not here for a bounty.” He mollified.

She scoffed and waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I’ll believe that when a puffer pig ceases to puffer.”

The Mandalorian decided to talk before things got out of hand. “I've been searching for you.”

Her helmet tilted. “Who? Little ol' me? You have me at a disadvantage.” She was making it clear within her tone that she was not happy to have been sought out.

“Who gave you the job to find me?” She kept her voice low and threatening, “I don't want to have to ask twice, Mandalorian.”

He looked around, everyone in the cantina was sitting on the edge of their seats waiting to see what would happen. It was too many eyes and ears in the vicinity for his liking.

“Fine, let’s talk somewhere else. Private.”

Her head went from side to side as if mulling over what to do. “Very well,” she finally conceded.

She gave orders to the men at the bar, “Kug'narus, make sure this filth stays here until I get back,” kicking the Klatooinian for good measure. “Yo-Yorg, I’ll pay you back for any damages to the cantina.”

Both saluted at the unspoken order of _I do not want to be interrupted_. At this, she hauled a nearby chair towards the Mandalorian. The Mandalorian had quick reflexes and was able to dodge it as it broke into pieces behind him. She stormed past him out the exit, the patrons quickly maneuvered out of the way — one of them even issued a piece of “Good luck, Mando!” as he recovered and sprinted after her.

Yo-Yorg turned to the remaining patrons, he rubbed his hands together, a maniacal grin spread over his face.

“Alright yousa scum. All-n youse place bets!”

* * *

The Mandalorian ran through the thick jungle foliage. Fuck the _Maker_ , did he have to fight everyone before attempting a civil conversation?

He got a glimpse of her up ahead, “Wait! I sai —”

He only ran a few meters when he stopped, realizing he no longer heard her running — the stillness of the jungle and birds circling ahead were the only sounds he picked up. His visor whirred as it changed to a bio scanner and saw her footprints just a few feet ahead had come to an abrupt end. His visor turned back to normal and he looked down at the set of footprints planted firmly on the ground. The grass and dirt around it were disturbed in a circular motion, similar to when a ship's repulsor makes contact on the ground. So that's how she did it — _repulsorlift boosters!_

He swiftly looked up in the tree branches above him, but he noticed her too late as she jumped from the branch she was hanging from and harshly kicked him in the chest.

His voice cracked as he fell backward.

“Talk about déjà vu”, he groaned.

 _“Su cuy'gar, copaani gaan?"_ The friendly greeting was sardonic and laced with venom.

Lu didn’t give him a chance to reply as she pressed forward to attack with her fists. He was able to quickly get up and block the swift jabs she delivered to his face.

Hearing the familiar tongue of Mando’a would’ve comforted him if not for the fact he was desperately trying not to get his ass handed to him. He hasn’t heard it since he left Nevarro two months ago.

He growled out, “I don’t want to fight you, just listen to me!”

“I don’t listen to the bounty hunter that wants to take me back to _them_!” She hissed.

He was fucking irritated since no one on this planet wanted to hear him out — so he ignited his flamethrower in a circular motion, she managed to duck in time as it caught a nearby bush on fire.

“Tch, that’s how you want to play? _Alrighty then_.”

Her stance changed, she took out her vibro-blade in connected configuration and poised it over her left forearm, the parallel edges of the vibrating blades ignited in electrifying blue energy, basking its wielder in its light. She rushed him, slashing his arms and legs. Almost akin to the sound his whistling birds made when deployed, the electro-plasma filament in her blades whistled and cried as it collided against the beskar, preventing him from getting nicked. She gritted her teeth in frustration each time she couldn’t land a direct hit.

This was _not_ what he meant by wanting a private conversation. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to take her hits. He returned every punch and kick she dished out. Her movement was precise and deadly. He swore the beskar’gam she wore didn’t even seem to impact her movements despite it being almost twice her size. He felt the adrenaline rush of excitement and danger — not even his fight with Cara was this strenuous or _deadly_ , he thought as he blocked another swipe of the blade.

He feigned a side-step, fired the whipcord from his right vambrace and coiled it around the vibro-blade which then he was able to yank it from her grasp and flung it somewhere behind him.

“Listen to me, _Lu._ If we could just talk!”

Calling her by that name was a _mistake_. The Mandalorian grunted in pain as she resorted to her fists again, only for them to increase in speed and in strength. Somehow, she became even more vicious!

“ _Who_ told you that was _my_ name? _Who_ sent you after me?”

“A mutual ally!”

Lu delivered harsh high kicks trying to trip him but he was able to grasp her by the ankle, pull her forward and then hoisted her up by the waist — in turn, she hooked her other leg around his middle and repeatedly crashed her elbow against his shoulders and head.

“I — _OUGFF_!” The wind was knocked out of her as the tree trunk the Mandalorian had collided her against splintered from impact. He backed away slowly, letting her come to her senses.

They were both breathing hard now, she sounded more winded than him. “I — I can easily count the number of people that — that know that name and most of them are _dead_!”

Hot fire reignited in her voice, “Don’t feed me lies Mandalorian. Was it the _EMPIRE_?”

The _Empire_? He was pissed but now he understood why the woman was quick to try and kill him. She was just so damn hard-headed, furious, and adamant that he was there for a bounty on behalf of the crippled Empire, but she was just trying to _defend_ herself. He respected that.

She ran at him again, however, her foot slipped on the meiloorun melon that was in the sack that must’ve fallen off during the fight. The Mandalorian took advantage of the situation as she teetered for balance and toppled her backward, both landing with a resounding _oomph._

He had enough and held her arms above her head, he shoved his helmet as close to her as he could and bellowed, “It was CARA!”

She stilled and quit her struggle at the name. “C-Cara? _Cara?_ ” She repeated again, the harshness in her voice faltering.

“Yes . . . Cara.” He said it more slowly.

He pictured her blinking rather slowly trying to wrap her head around this.

“Oh . . . _oh_.” She breathed in understanding, her breath coming out labored and uneven.

“Wanna talk now? As rational adults?”

She said no words but gave him a small nod. He pushed himself off of her and extended his hand to help her up. Petulantly, she swatted it away, getting herself up with a grumble and then dusted off her poncho. She picked up her discarded virbo-blade and strapped it to the back of her bandolier.

They both surveyed the aftermath of their fight. A bush was still smoking from the Mandalorian’s flamethrower, roots were snapped, dirt disturbed, and a crack in the tree trunk from their collision with it and to the squished remains of the melon that spewed from the sack and clung to her boot.

“How’d you find me? There’s no way a fob could’ve tracked me.” She said wearily.

He didn't bother asking what she meant by that. He huffed, trying to get his strength back. 

“Cara again. Said she had some contacts that knew where you went.”

“Must’ve been Yo-Yorg,” she muttered under her breath. “Where is she?”

“Holed up on a backwater skug hole in the outer rim. Early retirement she said.”

“About time she left those Republic idiots. Their suffocating dogma really didn’t suit her after the war ended.”

Lu scraped her boot over a root, hurling curses while cleaning off the dirtied guts of the meiloorun melon. _Bless that Iktotchi woman_ , the Mandalorian silently thanked her precognitive ability.

“Ugh! What the _kriff_ did I step on? It almost smells like —”

His boot nudged the sack on the ground. “Cara also said you’ll be _nicer_ if I brought you this.” She inspected the squashed contents of the sack.

“A meiloorun melon? You have more?” His head tilted at the childish plea she was trying to smother.

“Yeah, six more back on my ship.”

“You should’ve started with that. Then maybe we wouldn’t have to resort to this,” she gestured to the ruined clearing. He didn’t point out how she said _we_ , as if he was the one to instigate it.

Lu walked to the edge of the clearing they were in, he got the hint as she jerked her head in the direction of the outpost and started walking side-by-side with her. They lapsed into an uneasy silence, navigating through the thick brush of the forest. They both sneaked glances at each other, now curious about the other person that no longer posed a threat.

“I s’pose we should talk _properly_ this time. Is Cara well?” She asked.

“In a quiet place like Sorgan? She’s doing just fine.” 

She nods at that, to herself really, as if trying to convince herself that Cara is alive and well after all the shit she went through in the war.

“You mean disrupting the peace?”

“That too.” 

“What does she want?” 

“She hired me to take you to her so she can buy you a drink.”

“So, I was right. I’m a bounty.” She deadpanned.

“Half favor, half bounty.” He amended. “She helped me out of a predicament. In turn, I’m doing this for her.”

She hummed, “Got a name?”

He shrugged. “Mando works.” For some reason, it hurt more than he cared to admit. It had always been his name ever since he started to take jobs off-world before and after the Purge. His true name was last said out loud by _Naur'alor_ just before she took him under his wing at the eve of his _Verd’goten_ and the _Mando'ade_ from other tribes always referred to each other as _Vod_.

“Bo-oring.” She drawled.

“Says her _Highness_.”

Lu didn’t stop walking but her head whipped so fast towards him he thought she might’ve broken it.

“Repeat that one more time.” She dared.

“The locals call you M’lady, used to address a noblewoman or a lady with merit. Highness is just a variant of that.”

“They call me that because they _respect_ me. From you, it just sounds condescending.”

“Fine. _Lu_ it is.”

“Not that either! I certainly don’t trust you yet for you to use that name. I don’t know what Cara was thinking telling you that.”

He didn’t think she meant to have slipped _yet_ in there, but _yet_ was good, there was a possibility they could become amicable just as Cara said.

He gave her a fixed stare as they came to the edge of where the jungle met the outpost. She was quite tall, probably around Cara’s height, landing just a bit to the bridge of his nose. When he had carried her in their fight, he had gotten a good feel of her body. Unlike Cara’s brawny built, she was lean and wiry. He remembered the hulking cuirass she wore underneath the poncho and frowned, definitely the wrong type of beskar'gam for her body type. He eyed the paint that accented her helmet, lips quirking to a smile she couldn’t see.

“I can’t call you Lu. So _Blue_ will have to do. Lu — B **lu** e.”

She winced, infuriated she said, “What are ya a poet?”

She didn’t sound like she totally hated it, perhaps someone had called her that before.

“We can’t go straight to Cara. We will be stopping by a few places so we can’t both be Mando, it’ll be confusing, _Blue_.” He said with an added emphasis to her newest alias.

“Well, that’s easy because I’m _not_ a Mandalorian and I’m _not_ going.”

He was more so stupefied at the former revelation than the latter. “ _What did you just say?_ ”

“Beg yousa pardon M’lady!” Yo-Yorg urgently interrupted through her comlink.

“What is it now?” She hotly answered.

“Isa about da bounty hunter!”

“It’s alright, the Mandalorian is with me.”

“Nosa! Da one yousa told Kug’narus to watch. Hesa had a fob. As soon as yousa left, isa started tracking someone. Da Klatooinian said hesa was goin’ to be rich, punched hesa way outta da cantina and left to da landing pads!”

Before she could respond, she was startled by an abrupt _“Blast!”_ , the Mandalorian’s cape fluttered wildly as he bolted towards the landing pads.

“Oi!” She sprinted after him, the adrenaline of an oncoming fight spurred her speed. “Yo-Yorg! Which landing pad?”

The comlink picked up the sound of fighting and blasters going off.

“Five-Five! Hurry M’lady! Da Klatoonian has nutsen palos!”

Her stomach sank to her knees. _The children!_

* * *

When Lu burst through landing pad five-five, she was greeted by the sight of the Razor Crest — the Klatooinian’s crew and several residents of Numidian Prime were fighting each other. Blaster shots of blue, yellow and red danced in the air causing casualties on both sides, more so for the enemy.

She took out her blaster from the holster on her waist and wasted no time in dispatching the closest idiots that dared to bring a tracking fob to her outpost. Her visor scanned the fighting crowd and saw that the Mandalorian was already fighting two enemies at once, Yo-Yorg and Kug’narus were shooting behind the safety of stacked crates, the rest of her forces also had their hands filled. But still no sign of the children.

With everyone occupied, the safety of the young maintenance crew was her number one priority. They had to be here somewhere. _Not again, let them be safe,_ she silently pleaded. She crouched right behind her men, firing a few shots over them.

“Where are the CHILDREN?” She hollered over to Kug’narus.

He was bleeding from a cut to the temple, but it didn’t hide the distress in his voice. “We couldn’t find them! When we got here, one of them was already dead and then all hell broke loose!”

“Keep them occupied! I’m going in, the kids are here somewhere!” She didn’t wait for them to reply, rushing into the fray.

Yo-Yorg felled another bounty hunter when he shouted, “What da hell, shesa thinks wesa doing here?”

* * *

“ _Sat-ika!_ _Sat-ika!_ ” She desperately shouted Satele’s nickname, hoping the girl could hear it through the firefight. She ran through the pad, pausing in front of the Razor Crest’s hull, checking around crates and other hidey holes she knew the children used in their games.

“Keedi! Ytoor! Kor’anno! Patoor!” She called again.

And by the light of the Maker, a shrill “ _M’lady!_ ” she recognized as Keedi’s voice emanated from the back of the Razor Crest.

She ran full speed around the ship, halting at the not-quite-dead Klatooinian from the cantina, he was clutching his stomach and writhed in agony. A broken comlink and tracking fob laid drowning in the pool of his blood — the fob’s indicator was rapidly flashing and beeping, pointed in the direction of the open hangar of the Razor Crest.

“Kids!”

She ran inside and released a shuddering breath as the children popped out one by one at the call — Keedi was the closest to the open hangar behind a crate, Ytoor peeped from the second-floor hatch she knew that led to the cockpit, the weapons compartment swished open to reveal Patoor and —

“Where’s Kor’anno and Satele?” Her voice struggled to remain level for the sake of the children.

Kor’anno stumbled from behind the floating row of carbonite blocks. He sported a black eye and his lips quivered, “M’lady over here, Satele’s hurt!”

Hurrying to where the carbonite chamber was, she paled at the state Satele was in. The young Tholothian laid crumpled on the floor, one arm holding a brown bundle and the other clenching a blood-stained virbo-knife. Satele was splattered in blood — _lots_ of blood — her face was contorted in a grimace of pain. The girl peered through her lashes at the heavy sound of boots and immediately tried to get up at the sight of the Mandalorian helm.

“Easy, you’re hurt. _Osik_ , the blood —” She couldn’t find where it started or ended. The woman pressed a shaky hand to the girl’s shoulder to move her out of the chamber, but she flinched away when Satele yelped.

“ _Cabur_ , I’m fine. Most of it . . . not mine . . . my shoulder!” she gritted out, and that’s when she noticed a part of Satele’s sleeve was ripped open, blood spewed out from a shallow gash but definitely wasn’t the source for all the blood she was covered in. Belatedly, she realized it came from the dying Klatooinian.

“Sat-ika, I need to stop the bleeding, put that down,” she tried to reach for the brown bundle but Satele moved her body away from her.

“NO! I’m protecting him!" She cried.

“What? Who —”

“M’lady behind you!” The children screamed in unison.

Lu whirled around, her blaster already going off to hit the shoulder of a Weequay that merely staggered him. She fired off another shot at an incoming Trandoshan but like its partner, it had a tough hide.

They simultaneously charged at her — she quickly holstered her blaster and whipped out her vibro-arbir blade instead. She held it horizontally, each hand spaced evenly on the hilt and with a grunt and sparks spewing out, the blade detached into two. With a blade in each hand, she quickly slashed the Weequay that didn’t anticipate her move while her other blade effortlessly parried the wild hacking of the Trandoshan’s vibro-sword.

Ultimately, she was able to catch her opponent’s blade in an X-shaped block. However, the Trandoshan was much bigger, much stronger, he was driving her back towards the children. She relented her hold on of the blades and used the pommel to smash into its flared snout, making him reel back in pain; with an angry cry he made a move to charge at her again but didn’t get very far as he promptly disintegrated into dust — the Mandalorian stood just a few yards behind reloading his amban sniper rifle. She quickly gave him a nod and ran back into the ship for the children.

Sensing they weren’t going to win, the remainder of the bounty hunter crew dispersed and retreated into the trees.

Kug’narus yelled out orders to his men and the command center, “They’re escaping to their ship, shoot them down!”

Lu came out of the Razor Crest carrying Satele in her arms with the rest of the children in tow. The Mandalorian was beside them in an instant, Satele gave both of them a shaky smile as she revealed the unharmed green baby nestled in the brown robes. He gingerly picked him up and looked him over for any injuries. Lu set Satele upon a barrel, activated her comlink and shouted orders.

“Yadirhaa head to pad five-five, I need your help and bring a medpac! Kug’narus, there’s that idiot Klatooinian bleeding out in front of the Mandalorian’s ship. I want him alive.” 

A tall purple Twi’lek female ran up to them just a few minutes later and started asking a million questions at once but pausing once she saw Kor’anno.

“By the Twi’lek Goddess, Kor’anno your eye!” She started fussing over her son. Her hands pulled and pinched at his face.

“Maman, not in front of M’lady and the Mandalorian! I’m a-okay, I don’t even feel it!” Kor’anno flushed from embarrassment and tried to swat his mother away.

“Yeah right! You bawled like a baby!” Ytoor piped up.

“Did not!”

“Did too!” Patoor backed her sister up.

“And all of you scampered into the ship like a bunch of scared loth-kits!” Keedi argued. “At least I was on the lookout for help!”

Satele blew a raspberry with great exasperation at the tinny voices around her. 

“Not like I’m _bleeding_ out here or anything.”

Lu took the medpac from Yadirhaa. She placed a cooling patch over Kor’anno’s eye, carefully sanitized Satele’s wound and took a wet wipe to the blood drying out on her face and clothes.

“As you can see they’re alright. Besides their usual greased appearance, they just a bit shook up. Can you take the rest of them to their parents?”

“Of course, M’lady. Shall I take Satele?”

“No, she stays with me.” 

Yadirhaa herded the bickering children away and all that was left was Satele, the two beskar-clad warriors, and a big-eared green baby.

She turned to the Child in the Mandalorian’s arms. 

“ _Sat-ika_ , this is who you were protecting?” She studied him intently, never have seen a species quite like his before.

The Child’s ears perked up in acknowledgment and gave a coo. He started to fuss a bit trying to reach Satele with an outstretched hand but was held steady in place.

Mando observed that Lu attached the affectionate _Mando’a_ _-ika_ suffix to Satele’s name. It was usually reserved for children or a very close friend which meant that Satele meant a lot to her given by the way Lu tenderly treated her wound and gave her a different sort of attention than the other children.

Satele fumbled for an explanation, “He came with the Mandalorian . . . I tried to call you but that bounty hunter came at us so fast. He smashed my comlink, punched Kor’anno and tried to take the baby so I — I just reacted.”

She stopped Satele from going any further by placing a hand on her head.

“It’s alright, you did what you had to do. You protected the others and the Mandalorian is thankful, _right_?” They looked to the T-shaped visor at the same time.

“You were very brave.” He told her truthfully without skipping a beat, she flushed at the compliment. 

Lu tied a temporary bandage around Satele’s arm and then chastising wagged a finger at her. “I taught you well — however, don’t think I don’t recognize that vibro-knife from my stash.”

Satele had the gall to give a cocky little smile. “At least it was put to use rather than sitting in some dusty weapons cabinet, _Cabur_.”

The Mandalorian was unnerved that the young girl was so blasé at the fact she almost killed someone but was even more confused at the term she used to address Lu.

“ _Cabur?_ Kid, you have a slave brand. Why would you say that if you’re a slave?” He stated offhandedly.

 _“Mando!”_ Lu lowly hissed.

He felt the sharp look from her but wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of emotions in Satele’s face: hurt, disgust, and then settled in rage. 

“I am a person and my name is Satele! I am not a slave, not here, not ever again!” Her good arm outstretched and pointed a finger at him in an accusatory manner. “You have no right to talk when you’re a bounty hunter traveling with a baby that could very well be some sort of bounty or slave or—” She looked away and clutched the back of her neck, trying to prevent the tears from falling.

Lu placed her hand on Satele’s head again, her thumb rubbing in soothing circles, “ _Sat-ika_ , _kaysh mirsh solus_ , he didn’t know _._ Listen to my voice, center yourself and breathe little one.”

And she did: she took a big breath, exhaled, and then wiped her eyes but she refused to look at him. He didn’t mean to hurt her like that. His day has been a whirlwind, full of questions that needed answers and now another one added to an already big list: Lu spoke to her in _Mando’a_ (even though it was at his expense) — did that mean Satele knew the language too? He decided to try something to get back into her favor.

“ _Satele_ ,” he corrected and remorsefully added, “I shouldn’t have assumed. _N'eparavu takisit_.”

Her head jerked up, her pained face dissipated to one of shy gratitude. “ _K'lamot di'dunla._ ” She stumbled over the pronunciation but he understood her nevertheless. 

“Nice save,” Lu muttered, now standing with her attention towards Kug’narus jogging up to them with Yo-Yorg not far behind.

“M’lady, they managed to escape but we did manage to capture another one besides the Klatooinian. They’re refusing to talk but they had this —” he pulled out two fobs, one sticky with blood, that beeped rapidly as it hovered near the Child. The three of them turned to the Mandalorian with questioning glares and his head jerked back a bit at the sudden threatening auras.

Lu gave a deep sigh that crackled through her modulator, obviously trying to hold back some thoughts that pertained to the Mandalorian and the Child. She heaved Satele back into her arms, the Twi'lek and Gungan stood at attention waiting on her orders. And when she did, her voice was calm and held an authoritative air. 

“Yo-Yorg reserve a room at the cantina for the Mandalorian and his . . . companion. Show him to the stronghold after he’s settled. Kug’narus, I will be tending to Satele. Your wife already took the rest of the _Fives_. Get rid of the fobs and do me the favor of showing our disruptive _guests_ that there’s more than one way to skin a womp rat if they’re not willing to talk. Report to me after.”

“Aye M’lady,” they chorused and she walked away without as much of a backward glance towards him.

Satele poked her head over Lu’s shoulder and gave a wave to the pair with her good arm. _"Ret' Mando bal Vorpan-ika!”_

The Child charmed by Satele waved back enthusiastically and then his stomach rumbled in hunger loud enough to capture Yo-Yorg’s attention.

“Let’s go get that babe fed, Mando.” Yo-Yorg urged him.

As he followed the Gungan back to the cantina, the Mandalorian had to wonder just what kind of mess Cara threw him into.

…..

…..

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Satele pictured above! She's super cute! :) 
> 
> I chose Satele's name (Sah-teel) from Satele Shan (SWTOR), she's one of my favorite Jedi!
> 
> I also sprinkled loads of hints and stuff in this chapter I hope will make sense later on for when the drama starts picking up. (grins mischievously) 
> 
> If y'all see any glaring mistakes or weird grammar issues, please don't hesitate to point it out. My first draft was riddled with head-hopping and I edited it a lot to ease the changing of POVs more stealthily. Let me know how I did!
> 
> …..  
>  **Translations:**  
>  mando'ad(e) — Son(s) or Daughter(s) of Mandalore  
> Su cuy'gar, copaani gaan? — Hello ( lit. "You’re still alive") / "Need a hand?" (lit. offering of help or assistance)  
> Naur'alor — Forgemaster, Mando'a name for The Armorer  
> Verd’goten — (birth of warrior) traditional rite of passage in Mandalorian culture in which at the age of 13, a youth was accepted as an adult after successfully passing a series of trials.  
> Vod(e) — brother(s)/sister(s); comrade(s)/mate(s)  
> 'ika — diminutive suffix (added to a child's name or someone very familiar to you)  
> Osik — shit  
> Cabur — guardian, protector  
> Kaysh mirsh solus — He’s an idiot. (lit. his brain cell is lonely)  
> N'eparavu takisit — Sorry (lit. "I eat my insult")  
> K'lamot di'dunla — Apology accepted (lit. "Rise, forgiven")  
> Ret' Mando bal Vorpan-ika! — "Bye/See you, Mando and little green one!" - Ret' is casual here  
> …..  
> …..  
> …..  
> There were so many of you last chapter that left kudos, bookmarked and subscribed — y'all left me feeling guilty af that I haven't updated yet so I hope you enjoyed this extra-long chapter! A special thank you again to Raven802 for leaving a comment!
> 
> As for new readers — drop a kudos, comment, subscribe, tell yo fam and friends about my little fic. Much appreciated!


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